


Double Trouble

by Sherlock1110



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Baby Abandonment, Child Neglect (not by Sherlock), Daddy Sherlock, Gen, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Parentlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-06-07 11:41:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6802258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlock1110/pseuds/Sherlock1110
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>9 months ago John went on Mike's stag do, Sherlock was home alone… what happens when Harry turned up with twin boys with surprising resemblances to both John and Sherlock…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Beta read by sherlockian4evr

Sherlock’s phone had been ringing insistently for the past 20 minutes, the noise nearly driving him crazy. There was no break between the end of one attempt and the start of the next. He straightened up from where he was bent over the most recent corpse at the crime scene and decided he couldn’t let the bloody buzzing continue. Finding his phone in his pocket, he was surprised to see it was John… he swiped his finger across the screen. “What?” he snapped, a little harsher than he had meant, especially knowing who it was on the other end.

“Don’t you what me, Sherlock Holmes, get your arse home right now!”

“John, I am on a case.”

“I couldn’t give a flying fuck if you are on the moon, get your arse back to Baker Street.”

“Babe-”

“No, don’t ‘babe’ me either. Home. Now, Sherlock or I will phone Greg and tell him not to send any more cases your way for a year.”

“A year!”

“Now!” John yelled so loud that Sherlock had to hold the phone away from his ear and Anderson looked over at him, his usual snarl in place.

Holding the phone back to his ear again, Sherlock sighed softly, he went to say ‘I love you’ or at least a ‘goodbye’ only to find that the doctor had already hung up. A Bit Not Good.

Coming to the conclusion that John would be a right pain in the arse if he didn’t go home at once and genuinely believing that John would call Greg to keep his promise he knew he needed to get back to Baker Street fast. He just had no idea what he was going to find when he got there.

His mass of deductions were basically done anyway, he would only need to talk to a few people, but maybe the DI was competent enough to be able to handle that bit alone. He pulled his gloves off and threw them in a temporary bin.

“Sorry, Greg, got to go.”

“You can’t just leave, Sherlock, what about-”

“I’m not making my boyfriend mad, just like you don’t make yours mad.”

“Judging by the volume coming from John I would say he is already mad.”

“Yes. Well, I am not making it worse. I hate being in the dog house.” He turned to stroll off, his hands finding his coat pockets easily as the tail flicked around dramatically.

“But the case, Sherlock!” the DI yelled after him.

The detective froze and spun on his toe. “If the bedrooms are painted orange and the staircase has a similar colour wallpaper arrest the father.”

“What? Why?”

“Just trust me,” Sherlock sighed again.

“What, and I don’t normally?”

He smiled at that… nearly. “Look under the fingernails, I’m sorry, Greg, I’ve really got to go.”

***

“I got back from the surgery an hour ago to find my sister on the doorstep with two carry seats.” John hadn’t even let Sherlock get his key out of the door before he had begun his rant. “Why the hell didn’t you pick up your phone?”

“I was busy,” Sherlock responded as if that solved everything. “Well, where’s Harry?”

John shook his head. “Where was I 9 months ago, Sherlock?”

“December?” Sherlock was frowning deeply. “John, what the hell?”

“Just answer the damn question, Babe!”

He sighed before shrugging after a moment’s thought. “I don’t know. Like you said, that was 9 months ago.”

“Use your Mind Palace!”

He huffed. “John-”

“Now, Sherlock!”

The younger man closed his eyes briefly. “You had Mike’s stag do in France. You left me alone for a week,” he pouted briefly. “But apart from that you were here. With me.”

“And you just happened to forget to mention that you slept with my sister!” John yelled.

“John…” Sherlock was quickly stumped into silence. His eyes flickered to the door as if he was about to disappear.

The doctor stepped forward and grabbed his arm tightly. “No, no, no. ‘Lock, you are not about to run away from this.”

“I didn’t-”

“Don’t lie to me, Sherlock! This is hard enough as it is.”

“I’m not – how can you-?”

“Know that? Because A) I always know when you lie to me, I can read you like you read those corpses you’re always so interested in and B) he looks exactly like you!”

John pointed to the coffee that for once wasn’t covered in case notes. Instead, on top sat two car seats that Sherlock hadn’t even noticed. He, the consulting detective, the observing, consulting detective hadn’t noticed.

He looked into the car seat that John had pointed at and was faced with something that looked like a deaging mirror. The corner of Sherlock’s mouth curled up into a smile at the sleeping baby that occupied it. John may have been angry and proving Sherlock wrong, but he wasn’t wrong with the look-alike baby, short brown hair that curled at the ends surrounded by a little pink face that was snoring softly. Frowning slightly, he reached in and pushed his finger into the baby’s hand, it flexed slightly, but wasn’t mature enough to grip anything. The detective watched as the little chest rose and fell with each snore, his bottom lip almost vibrated on each exhale. Sherlock was sure that it was definitely a boy, despite the white baby grow, which wasn’t quite white anymore. This little one’s snoring wasn’t the only snoring in the room. He moved over to the other chair in the room, while John stood back with his arms folded, watching on, almost fed up. The other sleeping baby was just as red faced as the first one Sherlock had looked in on but this one – also a boy he was sure – had thin wispy hair almost invisible, a closer look told him it was blond. Blond… John.

With a deep breath he took a step back; away from the two boys. He turned his back on the coffee table and turned on the ex-army doctor, he was breathing heavily, like he was struggling to control his temper.

“Now are you going to tell me the truth?”

Sherlock frowned and paced around the table for a moment.

“Well?” John practically yelled.

The younger man had paused in front of one of the travel seats he pointed into it at the sleeping baby. “He looks exactly like you, are you sleeping with your sister?”

“Sherlock!” the blond exhaled heavily, “for Christ’s sake, Babe, this isn’t funny. My sister has just abandoned twin boys on our doorstep and you are making cheap jokes!”

To John's surprise the lanky detective continued to stare into the second chair, this time he put both arms in and pressed the little red button keeping the John lookalike safely inside. He lifted him out with slow, smooth movements, little John barely moved in response, still sleeping soundly. He quickly checked him over like he did at crime scenes with inanimate objects, but made sure to keep his head supported. He quickly looked over his shoulder to cough away from the baby, “Woah, he stinks,” he choked when he could draw fresh air again.

“They both do Sherlock! My bitch of a sister has got back with Clara and Clara never wanted kids. So it’s obvious who got neglected. I have half a mind to report her!”

“No, don’t!” Sherlock said hurriedly holding the baby in his arms closer to his chest, despite the smell. He walked over to the window, looking out over cloudy London, it looked as if he had been lucky with John’s phone call, it was about to rain… judging by the darkness in the sky at half 3 in the afternoon it was going to be heavy.

“Sherlock?” John's temper had eased slightly as he raised his eyebrow in concern.

“You're not reporting your sister. They will get taken away. They need to be checked out though, and some stuff needs to be organised… well quite a bit of stuff. You sleep with me anyway, so the upstairs bedroom is free. I’ll just tell Mrs. Hudson to put it back on our rent again, brother dearest can deal with it and we can turn it into a nursery for these two.”

“Nursery? Sherlock, what are you going on about? We can't keep them here.”

The baby in the travel seat started to shift and moan, causing the seat to rock on the table slightly, he had clearly had enough of sleeping. Sherlock guessed the one he had cradled to his chest wouldn’t stay asleep much longer either.

John immediately moved for mini-Sherlock and held his breath as he pressed the little button and lifted him out.

“Well, you are a cute little thing, but we can't-”

“John, do not say that they can't stay here again.”

The doctor looked up and caught sight of Sherlock's eyes, they were dark and dangerous, the sort of anger that was only ever apparent when they were facing down some monster – whether they be rapists or murderers – that they had chased halfway across London.

“But what about work?”

“It’ll be fine. Loads of people work and bring up kids. We see parents managing all the time.”

“Sherlock, you don’t know-”

He cut off again as his lover looked over at him more than aware what he was about to say. He sighed softly, his head leaning back against the wall, even as the little Sherlock looked up at him with wide blue eyes just cooing softly to himself. “Just stop, Sherlock. Just stop and think about this.”

“I am thinking about this. What's the alternative? Give them back to your psycho sister?”

“You are the one that got into bed with her!” John countered immediately. Mini-Sherlock moaned at the raised voice and the blond found himself sighing again. He had not thought that this time yesterday that he would be called home early from work, the same with Sherlock from whatever case he was working to find his sister at baker street, not only that but holding two travel seats, with not just his nephews in but his boyfriend’s boys.

“I know! Okay, John? I know that! I know that this is my fault. You were away, we weren’t together and I missed you. I didn’t know what to say to you on the phone and I didn’t know what to do. I tried to go to Mycroft, but I didn’t know what I would say to him either and Greg… I don’t know, ok?”

“So you slept with her?!”

“It was the closest thing to you, ok? We weren’t even together! But I don’t know why I bothered missing you if you think that little of me. Between looking after my boys and racing across London, the decision is obvious for me to make… obvious for any dad I would have thought? You clearly look at me like everyone else, like I'm some sort of machine! Some robot who would give his children away… I should have known this whole relationship was too good to be true! With a brother in such a financial position as mine, where is the problem with not working? You cannot and will not take them away from me. The only alternatives I can see is them getting neglected with Harry or them getting put into care, is that what you want?”

“No, but-”

“They’re your nephews, John!”

“I know that, Sherlock, I am not an idiot!”

“I overestimated you. I thought you out of everyone in my life you knew me the best… I was clearly wrong.” He seemed disappointed with himself… he was never wrong… but he knew if he was going to ever be wrong about anything it would be emotions.

He placed the surprisingly still asleep mini-John into the chair he had come out of and buckled him in again. Mini-Sherlock was already back in his chair, awake, but contently looking around at what limited view he had. The doctor had put him back inside to continue his side of the argument without a baby in the way. Sherlock made sure he was buckled in correctly, smiling down at the deaged version of himself.

“Sherlock-” the older man sounded uncertain now, but Sherlock didn’t care.

“If you don’t want to help, that is fine. I understand this isn’t the easiest situation given that they are your sister’s, but they are mine just as much and I’ll be damned if she comes near them again.” He picked up both chairs – mini-Sherlock on his right and mini-John on his left – and headed to the door. “If I see Harry again, I will not be responsible for my actions. Send me your new address and I’ll have Mycroft send your stuff over, save on the removal fees at least.”

Sherlock kicked the door back into the wall so it slammed shut behind him making his position very clear.

***

The detective gripped both the chairs extremely tightly as he walked down the stairs to 221A. He had to lower one in order to knock on the door, but he did it as quickly as possible, grabbing the John-lookalike’s chair tightly again.

“Sherlock? John?”

“It’s me, Mrs. Hudson. I need your help.” Those were words he didn’t say very often.

The door opened immediately to reveal Mrs. Hudson. Her usual calm persona had clearly been affected by Sherlock's words as well as the new sight before her, her expression went from concern to shock in a split second.

“Look, I've got all the time in the world to explain later, but for now I really need your help Mrs. H. Will you?”

She looked out in the hallway briefly, probably for John, Sherlock realised.

“Oh, of course, dear. Come on in.” She reached for one of the carry seats and Sherlock involuntarily took a step back, his hands gripping the chairs even tighter making his knuckles go white.

Mrs. Hudson's smile answered one of Sherlock's questions as well as creating a hundred more.

“I take it these two aren’t for a case?” she stepped back into her flat, out of the way so Sherlock and the two chairs could get through the door.

Mrs. Hudson's flat always seemed smaller than the upstairs one, but it was probably because the door led straight into the kitchen. Her bedroom, sitting room and bathroom were all out of sight.

The detective shook his head as an answer to her question, it didn’t seem to be enough though. “No, they’re mine.”

“Protective already?” the landlady asked with a smile. Sherlock's hands were still wrapped around the handles when he could have quite easily have put them on the table or even the floor beside the wall.

He chuckled nervously and lowered the seats to the table. He unbuckled mini-Sherlock from inside and lifted him out, he was still wide awake, young eyes flickering between Sherlock and the new surroundings.

“Who’s the mother?”

Mrs. Hudson wasn’t as surprised to find out that her ‘gay’ tenant had had sex let alone gaining two twin boys out of it than she should have been.

“Harry,” he replied, looking down at little Sherlock – stinky little Sherlock.

“Harry? John's sister?”

He nodded once, his attention still on the boy in his arms. He cooed, the little blue eyes peering up at him with little focus.

“Is it alright if I…” she trailed off holding her hands out.

Sherlock made a face and then nodded, seeming to come out of his reverie. “Of course it is, I'm sorry. I- I don’t know why I stepped back at the door, I didn’t mean to.” His voice was small and she stepped forward, not commenting on the smell of the lookalike baby as she cupped his cheek.

“It’s called being a parent.”

She moved to pick up the still sleeping mini-John from the full chair that was on the table.

His face still suggested that he wasn’t really catching up with his landlady’s thought processes. The older woman saw his look as she looked down at the little boy in her arms, the little boy with a remarkable resemblance to John. “I get that you are confused Sherlock but it will all clear itself up.” She watched him for his reaction, half her attention on the baby that looked like Sherlock. 

“What? Why am I confused? What will clear up? I suddenly have two kids that I didn’t have yesterday.”

His landlady smiled. “The day that Sherlock Holmes doesn’t understand what to do and I am actually here to witness it.”

“Not just witness it, Mrs. Hudson. Help? Please?” For once he wasn’t scared to ask for help, wasn’t scared to admit he didn’t have the smallest clue what he should be doing.

“Of course, dear,” she smiled, a tear in her eye. “I will always help you when I can, Sherlock, you should know that.”

He jerked his head, but his attention was on the baby in his hands.

“I don’t want to wake this little one up,” the landlady said as she laid little John back into the chair.

“Here, do you want to…” he offered mini-Sherlock who was alert as a baby of his age could be and was looking around.

Her grin got wider and she supported the little curly haired baby like a natural parent, ignoring the squelchiness of the little one’s nappy as well as the smell.

“Are you sure you're ok with this?”

Sherlock had never understood sentiment, but he knew that look from parents at kidnapping crime scenes and he knew that Mrs. Hudson had lost a child when she had been in America.

“I’m fine, Love, it was a long time ago.”

“Doesn’t change things, though, does it?”

“No, but time does make things easier. I’ll be fine. You’ve got children, Sherlock, how could I not be a part of that?”

So much for Mrs. Hudson saying that she didn’t want to wake mini-John, the little dusty blond had woken and had begun wriggling around, his arms and legs kicking out with no co-ordination, he smiled as he realised that this was the first time he was holding this twin, but he didn’t stink any less. Mini-John's eyes were so similar to John’s it was almost cute… well would have been cute if Sherlock hadn’t have been in a bad mood with him.

He took a deep breath as he held the baby to his chest, he knew this topic wasn’t going to be easy for him to think of let alone talk about. “As you can see, Mrs. H, they’ve um… been… mistreated by Harry. That will not happen again,” his voice had been sterner than he’d anticipated.

“So what do you plan to do with them?” she asked.

“That’s why I came to you,” he ran his chin through mini-John's dusty hair, it was beginning to stink too, the slight crying he had started seemed to calm instantly at that. “They are obviously hungry and need a bath, but apart from that… also could you put the upstairs bedroom back on my rent? My room isn’t really big enough for the bed and two cribs so I’ll need it as a nursery for these two.”

“You made that decision pretty fast.”

“What decision?” Sherlock's brow was furrowed as he tried to work out what she was referring to.

“Keeping them.”

“Of course I am, they aren’t going anywhere.”

She grinned again, the sort of grin that was really starting to scare the detective. He was used to that motherly tone she had always taken when talking to him or around him, but this was different, it was like she was… dare he think it, but proud?

“Good boy. Well, I’ve got an old tin bath that my sister and I used to use in front of the fire when we were little, that would probably be the best option with the two of them to start with. I also have some wet wipes that you could use to make a start, by the smell of it, they haven’t been changed for a few days and if they are as young as I think I don’t think they’ve been changed since they came out of the hospital.”

Sherlock's face had moved from calm to passive-aggressive and he held mini-John just that little bit tighter, bringing him under his chin.

“Would you be able to go and get nappies and stuff? Baby bottles and a few changes of clothes before I get the chance to go to the store or something.”

“What about John?” she had slowly lowered the cooing mini-Sherlock to the chair, it was the only safe place he could be at the moment. The landlady was now routing through a large storage cupboard, presumably for the bath.

“John will be moving out. And we are no longer together.”

“Sherlock!” It was the first time she had raised her voice at him in a very long time. He almost flinched from it, but for once it wasn’t him in the wrong… he hadn’t exploded the flat or poisoned John's coffee or left his experiment on the kitchen table.

“It is not my fault he is against the idea of me keeping my children.” He glanced down at the blond tuft of hair, the little hand had come up from beside him and had wrapped its little fingers around Sherlock's collar of his shirt. The two of them were remarkably content given what state they were in and what they had gone through.

“I’m sure that’s not true, dear. Sort it out with him, it’ll make this easier.”

“I don’t need this to be easier. They my kids. Why do you and John seem to think that I want to get out of this?”

“I don’t think you want to get out of it, Sherlock, I've been a single parent, I know how tough it can be.”

“You had a husband,” Sherlock pointed out, his hackles were up and he knew they shouldn’t be.

“I practically brought Charlotte up alone and you know it, but I would not change a thing. We were better alone.”

“I know,” he sighed, lowering mini-John to his chair and refilling his arms with the other twin who had begun to cry. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have argued with him, but it was not my fault. It was his, albeit for once.” He shifted from side to side with mini-Sherlock in his arms trying to calm him. “For now I just want to take care of these two.”

Mrs. Hudson nodded. She left the room with the bath and placed it in the bathroom, Sherlock heard taps running and knew she was sorting it for the three of them.

“Shh,” he whispered softly. “I’ll get you all cleaned up and then you can have some milk and you’ll feel loads better.”

The crying trailed off, a little hand reaching up to grab at Sherlock's nose.

“Mrs. Hudson my baby is attacking me.”

She had appeared in the bathroom door to let him know the bath was ready, she smiled at the pair of them. “So he isn’t just your double but trouble like you too.”

Sherlock chuckled softly.

“Will you three be alright if I pop out now? The baths done, you’ll need to change the water over probably but the sink in there is ok for that.”

He smiled reassuringly. “We’ll be alright, mini me has stopped crying now. We’ll do just fine, won't we?” he kissed the short curls beneath his nose and looked in at the other boy staring at the lamp shade on the ceiling without really seeing it.

“Mini you? Do they not have names?”

“Oh… well, no, I guess not. I suppose I get to choose them,” he seemed quite proud of that fact.

“Well…”

It was an obvious understatement to say that she was curious.

“I’ll tell you when you get back with nappies and food for them.”

She nodded once as she grabbed her coat from the rack. “Of course, well, I won't be long.” She smiled at him yet again like she was stupidly surprised about something.

Sherlock watched her leave, a fond smile in place as he lowered mini-Sherlock so he could carry them both through to the bathroom.

***

He placed the two seats that he couldn’t wait to chuck in the dustbin beside the tin bath his landlady had prepared. Looking around, he only noticed one towel and knew he’d have to go and get another… there was some in the cupboard opposite Mrs. Hudson’s flat door.

Mini-Sherlock must have drifted back off into sleep without old Sherlock realising. He smiled as he lifted the other twin up again, he felt like a yo-yo but he wasn’t complaining. “Shall we go and get the other towels?” he asked him softly.

The little fist jerked around and Sherlock caught it in his mouth, sucking his fingers. Mini-John didn’t quite know how to react and the detective would have sworn that he had frowned but that wasn’t possible. “Come on then, shall we sneak out?” he lifted him up a little more and smiled at the little head tucked under his chin, but he couldn’t help but screw his nose up at the smell. Not long now. He checked the other twin once more who wasn’t snoring, but seemed to be contently asleep.

“We have to be quiet,” he whispered, “because if we make too much noise and the door, is open John will hear us and then they’ll be another argument and we don’t want that do we? No,” he answered his own question, “because you two have to come first, isn’t that right?” it was weird, but this time yesterday someone asking questions that weren’t going to be answered would have been a stupid notion. He poked his tongue out at him as he made his way to the door, he didn’t want to leave the other little one, but he was asleep and he was literally going 10 seconds away, a little fist came up again clutching at nothing.

He swung the door open to find John standing there looking rather sheepish, he seemed to have been standing there for a while, tittering over whether to knock or not. He was carrying his med bag and had a few towels wrapped over his shoulders.

“Feel free to tell me to piss off, but you were right. They are yours. No one, not me, not anyone else can take them away from you. If you want to keep them of course I will support you and help you when and where I can.”

“Of course I want to keep them. They are my boys and you are talking about them like they are objects.” He stepped backward into Mrs. Hudson’s flat and the doctor followed.

“They need names and clothes and things like that.”

“I know,” Sherlock growled. “Mrs. Hudson has gone to the shop.”

“What did she say?”

“To say that she was surprised was an understatement. She kept smiling at me like she was surprised that I exist.”

John grinned cautiously. “I know how she feels.”

Sherlock, still unsure, turned back to the bathroom, bobbing little John up and down in his arms as he clucked softly. John watched him in amazement, but paused him before anything else could happen.

“Let me check them over before they go in the bath?” it was a question and Sherlock it as such.

He nodded, hesitantly. “Ok.” If he could trust anyone as well as Mrs. Hudson with them it would definitely be John, despite the argument he was his boyfriend and a doctor, there couldn’t be anyone better placed to help him with this.

John gazed in at the still sleeping brown-haired baby with an almost proud smile, it reminded him of Sherlock when he was asleep, but he wouldn’t say it, he was sure he’d get a glare for it if he did. But the similarities between them already was amazing.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” John asked as he placed the bag down on the side and laid one of the towels down over the side unit.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Sherlock asked, still genuinely not knowing what the alternative could be.

“Because of our lifestyle. If you haven’t got a case, you are shooting the wall or spearing pigs.”

“I run cases because I get bored, it was why I did drugs, you know that. But more recently I have needed less cases because I've had you,” he smiled slightly, trying to convey everything he meant in that one expression.

“We both thrive off the active lifestyle, Sherlock.”

“There is no harm in taking a break for a while. You are always telling me running through life at full pelt is unhealthy.”

“Who are you and what have you done with Sherlock Holmes?”

The detective actually smirked slightly rather than a smile. His hand subconsciously came up to rub at his little one’s hair. “I grew up in a very difficult family John. Mycroft was practically all I had. I had Father, but he was away at work a lot and all Mummy ever expected was me to end up in prison and she has barely said three words to me since she found out I was gay. I know the importance of family, just because I don’t acknowledge sentiment a lot, doesn’t mean I can completely ignore it.”

“So why don’t you get on now?” John asked cautiously. But going by Sherlock's response, not cautiously enough. The doctor was about to open his mouth to apologise for putting his foot in it when Sherlock beat him to it.

“You are right, we shouldn’t be at loggerheads all the time. But he is a meddlesome fool.”

John smiled, maybe, just maybe, these two little boys had made some headway on the childish feud that kept the two Holmes brothers apart.

“How about we see to these two little monsters, eh?” John thought it best to change the subject before he got too big for his boots.

Sherlock held the baby tighter and glanced at the carry cot on the floor again, he felt like now he wasn’t alone, if he let either baby out of his sight he would never see them again.

John could sense his apprehension and found himself even more amazed at the way his lover had responded to such extraordinary events. He grinned at the mini-him in his boyfriend’s arms and held his own out questioningly, almost asking for silent permission.

The detective took a step back, almost instinctively. “I’ve just got him settled,” he countered the argument John had presented.

“Sherlock, Babe, I need to check him over, and then the other little one. If my sister was as pissed as she looked when she turned up, god knows what she’s done to them.” He felt his temper increasing at that thought but he squashed it. Sherlock and these two were what was important now.

Thinking it through with deliberate slowness, Sherlock first glanced down at the baby in his arms, then nodded. Slowly his arms straightened as he supported the baby, handing him over, ensuring his head always had some form of support beneath it. It would be quite a while before either of them could hold their own heads up.

He leaned over the boy now in John's arms and kissed him briefly. “Sorry,” he whispered, almost sadly.

“It is me who is sorry, Babe,” John responded straight away, repositioning the little one in his arms so he could lower him down to the towel. “I underestimated you. By now you would have thought I had realised how often I do that. Of course you want them to stay with you – us. Whether or not you agree in three months is another matter,” he winked.

The doctor carefully and methodically removed the grubby Babygro throwing it over in the direction of the bin. Then he unstrapped the nappy, he didn’t need to be the world’s only consulting detective to see from the weight of the nappy alone he was going to be extremely sore. He felt sorry for the baby fast asleep in the travel seat as he would have to wait a while longer before being on the mend.

The smell was incredible. He would go as far as to say it was worse than most of Sherlock's experiments.

The baby whimpered as he lifted his legs slightly to remove the nappy, John tensed at the sight, but Sherlock actually growled, stepping back to lean against the wall as the shock of what had happened to them came to the surface… to his boys. His. The detective couldn’t watch.

John hissed at how red and sore he was and that was what could be seen through the mess.

With a deep sigh Sherlock was beside John, determined not to move. “I'm helping.”

John had seen this sort of behaviour before – not in Sherlock obviously, but clients at the surgery, when parents were seeing their children suffer they could feel it if not the same then worse than the child, or in this case babies, could. It somehow amplified itself.

It was the detective’s turn to glance at the chair containing mini-John, glad but confused as to why the two were awake at different times. They were twins, weren’t they supposed to do things together? They obviously weren’t identical, but would that make a difference?

Sherlock helped the doctor to tidy away as much of the mess with the wet wipes as possible and pushed the filthy nappy away.

“You are going to need to lift him, Babe, because I need to get to his back.”

The younger man nodded, but as he slid his hands gently beneath the tiny body and supported his weight, his little round face contorted in pain. He had to quell the anger that rose extremely fast up his throat and swallow the bile that was threatening to escape.

“Alright, ‘Lock. You can bathe this little one and I’ll deal with mini-you.”

The detective didn’t comment, he couldn’t speak. He just gently lowered mini-John into the bath and slowly washed the lukewarm water over him. He tried to work with haste and not speed because all he wanted was to get him up in a nice warm towel and hold him tightly.

***

“Sir, there has been reports of an argument in your brother's apartment in Baker Street.”

“So? This is my little brother, he argues with everyone all the time, it is what he does.”

“No, Sir. Real arguments. Loud ones. It doesn’t look good for your brother’s relationship. We’ve been waiting to see if anything happens, but it has been quiet for a while now, Sir. Almost dangerously so.”

The government official sighed. God dammit, baby brother!

“Very well, have a car ready in a few minutes I’ll be going to Baker Street.”

***

Slowly, Mycroft climbed up the seventeen stairs in Baker Street, he was concerned but not yet panicked, but as he walked into 221B it was to find Sherlock propped up against the back of the sofa, his legs were straight out and spread wide resting over the matching pouf. On the floor surrounding the furniture was a load of pillows, clearly the in case an accident happened. In one arm he held a baby boy with short dark brown curls wrapped up in a towel, fast asleep. Between his legs was another baby boy, but with a fine, almost yellowy hair, he was also wrapped in a towel, but had one of his arms free, waving it about absently. Sherlock's free hand was resting on the surprisingly close younger version of John and he was rubbing his belly through the towel and was cooing softly, at least until the government official had walked in.

“Oh, baby brother, what have you done?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because of an unexpected pregnancy announcement from a very close friend of mine last night I present you with chapter 2

A few hours previously, Sherlock had washed mini-Sherlock. Softly, but gently running a hand through his hair. Little blue eyes peered up at him in confusion, the little face contorted in pain as the warm water soothed his bum.

Mini-John was wrapped in one of Mrs. Hudson’s fluffy white towels and in big-John’s arms, sniffling as he was shifted about. The doctor knew that any movement would be uncomfortable for the little one while wrapped in a towel, but he would rather being uncomfortable than cold, it wouldn’t be long before Mrs. Hudson returned with clothes for them.

“God, ‘Lock, you don’t do things by halves, do you?” John said softly, while looking between the two boys.

Sherlock paused for a moment, looking down at the smaller version of himself. He had him in a towel too, now, all that was showing was his rosey cheeks from the warm water. “I think it’s fantastic.” The detective’s grin was broad, but there was hidden surprise in his expression as well.

The older man made sure that mini-John was settled in his arm in a comfortable place before he walked forward, pulling Sherlock – who had still been on his knees – to his feet towards him for a hug.

“I do too,” John agreed warmly, he ruffled Sherlock's curls with his free hand and for once the younger man didn’t respond negatively, in fact the rolling of his eyes could almost be called positive.

Still looking down at the baby boy in his hand, Sherlock spoke. “Mrs. Hudson is likely going to be a while. You know what she’s like, she’ll stand there fussing for hours.”

The doctor chuckled softly, shifting mini-John in his arms to keep him from grizzling. It was nice to just stop, he reflected, the last 4 hours had been the most muddled, confusing, knackering hours of his life and for an ex-army doctor, that was saying something. It also would doubtfully be the last… they had twins to care for now, not just a baby, but two, and not just Sherlock's children… his sister’s children… nephews.

“We may as well go upstairs and wait,” Sherlock suggested with a slight smile. “If only they were a little older they could have normal milk.”

John chuckled as he held the door for the younger man, “Not from our fridge they wouldn’t.”

The detective’s laugh was nervous. “No more experiments,” he spoke seriously to the baby in his arms as they climbed the stairs. “Especially in the milk.”

John watched fondly as his boyfriend moved the little boy from side to side. Sherlock seemed like a natural, it should have been awkward. He should have been stumbling around trying to work out what to do… or even as far as trying to work out what it was in his arms, instead he just looked between the boys in wonder.

Once they were back in their flat, the doctor indicated he should take a seat on the sofa and spread his legs out. John placed the little blond in Sherlock's other arm as he moved the pouf over between his legs and then stretched Sherlock's legs up. The detective was a bit out of it, John noticed, it had been one hell of a day after all, but that look in his eyes was one he saw often enough at crime scenes, it was curiosity. It was a ‘look John, I made these’ look.

He took the baby he had been most accustomed with over the last few hours and placed him between Sherlock's legs, then he ruffled his curls, “I’ll stick the kettle on, daddy.” He couldn’t resist and all Sherlock did was smile.

As he was in the kitchen making a cup of tea for the younger man, he heard the door go. He hoped it was Mrs. Hudson, it would give them the chance to dress the twins (finally) and more importantly, feed them. However, when he appeared at the kitchen door, he heard; “Oh, baby brother, what have you done?”

Sherlock's head snapped up, he frowned at his brother for a moment before deciding he needed to reply. “Got into bed with Harry and got these two from a really bad shag!”

“She is gay, Sherlock,” John felt the need to point out but he couldn’t work out why he was defending his sister.

“So are you! Doesn’t mean your shags are-”

“Boys!” Mycroft interrupted abruptly. He hadn’t been paying much attention, despite asking his brother for an explanation. Anything at this moment wasn’t computing and it wasn’t a feeling he was used to. He didn’t like it. “How about we return to the bigger picture? My baby brother is sat with twins on his lap. One looks like him and one looks like you!” he turned and pointed at John, he clearly had missed ‘Harry’ as part of Sherlock's rather limited explanation.

“Yes, Mycroft,” the doctor agreed as he brought in the warm mug for Sherlock. “We had noticed,” he added sarcastically. Sarcasm was normal and he needed normal after such a strange few hours.

The government official blinked and shook his head slightly, his usually so calm demeanour diminishing. “I need to sit down.”

“I’ll fill the kettle back up, shall I?”

By the time John had disappeared back into the kitchen Mycroft had collapsed in the armchair. “I…”

“In simple terms, Mycroft, meet your nephews.”

He blinked again, “Start talking, Sherlock.”

He remembered what he had said to John only hours before about the two of them… the meddlesome fool, but the brother that had always been there. He glanced down at mini-Sherlock. “Would you like to hold him?” he asked quietly, fairly sure his brother would decline immediately.

Mycroft's eyes widened in surprise and John actually poked his head around the door. He glanced at the baby in his brother’s arm. “I really should be mad at you, Sherlock. Demanding you explain yourself.”

This time when John reappeared it was with Mycroft’s coffee as well as his own. “But you won't because they are your nephews.”

“And family means everything,” Mycroft agreed with a nod. He didn’t know what to do though. He hadn’t so much as seen a baby since his brother had been one and now said little brother had twins from nowhere. But he did want to hold one. The one in Sherlock's arms, he was asleep, after all. “I haven’t held a baby since I was 8.”

John leant down to remove mini-Sherlock from big-Sherlock’s arms. He was glad when the detective didn’t flinch or jerk back protectively like he half expected. He stayed asleep as John carried him across the room and lowered him into Mycroft’s waiting, but nervous arms.

The government official stared down at the little Sherlock figure. He actually chuckled, that was nervous too and it didn’t take a Holmes to realise it. “Sherlock, he looks just like you did.”

The detective glanced up, he had moved his attention to mini-John who was now laying in his arms, staring up at him with unfocused eyes.

Mycroft never talked about their childhood. It wasn’t something either of them ever deemed to discuss, but this was different, this was almost… acceptable.

“They have been remarkably good, considering.”

Mycroft's head snapped up at John's words. “Considering what?”

“What my sister did to them,” John answered quietly, he was ashamed to call her his sister, she was a bitch and it just helped make his point that he had no idea why he had defended her earlier.

“His sister… Sherlock!” Mycroft hissed quietly because of the sleeping baby in his arms.

“We weren’t even together then!” The fact he’d already mentioned Harry tonight and Mycroft hadn’t picked up on it really drove home the seriousness of the situation as if he hadn’t noticed it before.

John had fallen into his own chair and he was now incredibly quiet. Despite the fact that Sherlock was right about their relationship, he couldn’t help but feel hurt that rather than tell him his feelings to his face, or even text it, he had gone to Harry instead.

“So the ‘considering’ you mentioned?” Mycroft still hadn’t taken his eyes off the little one in his arms.

John licked his lips hesitantly and he refused to look at the detective across the room. “Harry, well… in simple terms she…”

“Is a bitch,” Sherlock spat out. His voice was venomous and yet quiet as he jiggled his boy around in his arms keeping him content.

“What did she do?” Mycroft’s eyes flashed dangerously, but the pair were protected from his wrath and having to reply as Mrs. Hudson walked in.

“Coowee.” Mrs. Hudson froze at the door at the sight of Mycroft holding a baby – but not just any baby – his nephew. “Oh, hello Mycroft dear, I see you’ve met the little ones, isn’t it fantastic?”

“Not quite what I would call it, Mrs. Hudson, no.”

John stood to take the little blond from his arms as the government official tried to get to his feet.

“I've got enough supplies here to last a few days. Not many clothes, but there’s Babygros that should do until…”

“Until what, Mrs. Hudson?” Sherlock asked from where he was sat.

“Until social services get here.” She placed the bags on the side and pulled out the pack of nappies she had picked up.

“They aren’t coming here.”

“Not with all that stuff on the table, dear, but they are who will deal with the little ones.”

“I know who they are, Mrs. Hudson,” Sherlock said, heatedly. “But they aren’t coming here.”

“Why not?”

“How often do the fathers win the custody battles? Exactly. I've dealt with enough cases with somewhat competent fathers losing them and then coming to me for help. Social services aren’t coming here.”

“We have to do something with them ‘Lock.”

Sherlock spun on John and held his arms out for his son. The doctor didn’t hesitate in handing the baby over. Mini-John was content, but he looked like he wouldn’t be much longer in just a towel.

“Why?”

“Because Harry had a home birth. In the hot tub. Clara didn’t want her in a maternity ward or with the doctors so of course she didn’t go.”

“So?”

“So, little brother,” Mycroft offered gently, stepping towards the detective. “Neither of them have been registered.”

“But that means… they aren’t leaving me Mycroft. If that’s what you want, leave now and never come back.”

Sherlock glared, hard at his brother, at this point he didn’t care if all three of them left and never came back as long as he had the twins. John felt like he should intervene, the younger Holmes had been a lot more accepting of the idea of his brother mere hours ago and now there was open hostility again.

Mycroft took a deep breath, wishing they didn’t have so much of an audience, but this time it couldn’t be avoided. “That’s not what I want,” he said eventually.

Sherlock looked over incredulously, like he didn’t believe him.

“They are family and in case you hadn’t noticed, Sherlock, I go a long way to protect my family.”

This time when Sherlock looked at him, he saw his expression was cold, like he couldn’t believe what his brother thought of him. The detective’s breath hitched in his throat and he started to feel guilty, he sighed, recalling what he had said to John mere hours before.

Sherlock nodded once, tilting his head on one side. “That’s settled then, they’ll not come here.”

“’Lock, I never said anything about that,” Mycroft responded, glad his brother had lightened up if only a little. “They’ll need to go to hospital at the very least.”

“No!” Sherlock snapped, entertaining the baby in his arms, wishing he didn’t have to keep repeating himself. Why wouldn’t anybody listen to him? “John has checked them, they are sore and slightly malnourished. Enough for Harry to not dare show her face. They’ll stay here and then in a few days when they're fed and not so sore I’ll do whatever I have to.”

John glanced at the older Holmes, seeing it as his place to step in at last, he needed to show Sherlock he supported him. He did support him. “You can prevent anyone from finding out, can't you? For a few days, like he says.”

With some reluctance, Mycroft nodded. “Ok. I want to be a part of their lives Sherlock.” He looked at his brother seriously so the younger man would know he meant it. “Yours as well. All the way.”

The detective inclined his head as he contemplated his brother holding his nephew. “Do whatever you have to do to allow me a few days to get them settled and you can be a part of their lives."

Mycroft nodded. “Of course. May I?” He wanted to hold the other one – the John lookalike. He held his hands out expectantly.

Mrs. Hudson glanced between the 5 boys in the living room. “I’ll sort their bottles, shall I?”

John waited until Mycroft had sat back down and then handed him the little blond, awake baby. The government official soon got lost inside the little blue eyes peering unsteadily up at him. “I’ll help Mrs. Hudson,” he called through.

In the kitchen Mrs. Hudson had already got out the bottles she’d bought and the tub of baby milk. He immediately reached for the tub and began reading, it would soon become second knowledge, but it wasn’t at the moment.

Their landlady disappeared carrying two white babygros, she took them through to the double set of brothers in the sitting room.

“Thanks, Mrs. H,” Sherlock said fondly taking both from her, it would be good to see the two new arrivals in something other than dirty clothes or the fluffy towels they were currently laid in.

The detective looked over at his brother when Mrs. Hudson went back to join John. “Am I throwing this at you or are you going to dress him over here?”

Mycroft looked up in surprise. “You’ll let me?”

The younger brother smirked, “Of course, as long as you hold up your side of the deal you get to be part of their lives.”

The older man was smiling as he pushed himself to his feet and joined Sherlock and the other twin across the room.

Sherlock turned and laid mini-Sherlock on the sofa, unravelling him from the towel, Mycroft began doing the same and soon the twins were laid completely naked, but side by side once more.

One of the darker haired twins’ hands was clenched weakly and it reached out, hitting his own brother in the side, the blond baby didn’t respond. It could have almost have been done deliberately if he wasn’t only a few days old.

“You used to do that,” Mycroft said fondly, his expression was one of remembrance.

The consulting detective moved his attention from the baby to his brother as he pulled two nappies from the pack Mrs. Hudson had left on the side of the sofa. Why did they need to be so jammed packed? He passed one to the eldest Holmes.

“I think you used to do it to me deliberately.”

Sherlock smirked at that.

When John reappeared he found the two Holmeses staring at the nappies. The doctor stepped up between them. “Can't you figure it out?” he asked softly, he wanted to laugh – the most powerful man in the world stumped by a disposable nappy. But Sherlock's face told him it was no joke.

“What if it hurts?” Sherlock replied. John had rubbed in some cream that would hopefully help to soothe them, but they still looked red and sore.

John shook his head. “They should be fine. They should get used to it and if they are changed regularly they should heal up fairly quickly.” He rested his hand on Sherlock's neck and rubbed slightly, doing that to Mycroft would just seem weird so he settled for patting him on the back so it was almost not noticeable. 

The doctor couldn’t help but watch as Sherlock manoeuvred the nappy into place and lifted up his legs.

Out of the corner of his eye he caught Mycroft watching what Sherlock was doing so he could copy him. He smiled, but didn’t dare to comment, the moment was too precious to waste and he knew that the older Holmes would immediately kick up a fuss like a toddler might. His thoughts strayed to the idea of the fact that in two years they would have actual toddlers running around the place and causing hell. But how was it that only one Holmes seemed to know what to do? And if John had had to guess between them it would not have been Sherlock he expected to understand, but Mycroft.

When Mrs. Hudson poked her head back around the door, she held two bottles.

“I’ve already checked the temperatures,” she assured them, although she was mainly assuring Sherlock rather than Mycroft – he seemed to be a bit… distracted, it was an odd sight for the British Government.

She handed a bottle to each Holmes so they could feed them.

Sherlock, like the natural he seemed to have become over a few hours, scooped his twin up and took a seat on the couch. Once more Mycroft copied him.

The landlady grabbed John by the arm and took him to one side so they could smile at them in some privacy, it was rather satisfying to see Mycroft not knowing what he was doing for a change.

The twins were only in their nappies when the two Holmeses settled down beside each other. They needed feeding and that came before clean clothes in Sherlock's opinion. The flat wasn’t cold. It was never cold, but they were wrapped back up in the surprisingly still clean and dry towels again.

Mini-Sherlock had been roused gently by big-Sherlock as he settled him in his arm and he raised the bottle to the baby’s mouth and just allowed the tip of it in. He seemed to know what it was immediately and latched on to it.

Mycroft tried to do the same with mini-John, but this baby didn’t seem to want to know.

“Trust it to be mini-John that causes the trouble,” Sherlock offered softly with a fond look at his blond son but a smirk at the doctor.

“Shut it, ‘Lock,” John responded with no real bite.

“What happened?” Mycroft asked. “Did I do something wrong?”

Mrs. Hudson shook her head slightly. “You're doing fine, dear, try again.”

Mycroft tried again but with the same response, Sherlock glanced over at him in some concern.

Stepping forward, Mrs. Hudson inclined her head in Sherlock's direction. “There’s no need to look so frightened, Sherlock, is it ok if I try?”

Sherlock was immediately defensive. “I am well within my rights of being concerned after the way Harry treated them!”

“I know,” her voice was soft as she held her hands out in front of Mycroft. Hesitantly, he reached up and placed mini-John in her arms. He waited until she had him settled before passing the bottle up.

She moved him from side to side, making sure she had as much contact with him as possible. A lack of comfort or attention made Sherlock grumpy (as John had not hesitated to remind him on so many occasions) so it had to be similar for babies – the detective was a big baby, after all. He watched his landlady intermittently with watching mini-Sherlock suckle on the bottle.

“They more than likely dislike a bottle at their age,” John put in when Sherlock still didn’t look like he was going to be able to calm down on his own. “But as the alternative is clearly out of the question and will remain out of it, this will have to do.”

Sherlock nodded, clearly still unsure, but willing to trust John's judgement as he always did. He realised then that he really would rely on John so much with this, not just because of him being his boyfriend and offering support, but his doctoring skills would definitely come in handy. When he finally looked back over at Mrs. Hudson he saw that mini-John was content with the bottle between his lips.

“Make sure to snuggle him a bit,” she said with a smile as she lowered him back into Mycroft's more than willing arms. He didn’t even look disgusted at the idea of ‘snuggling’ just glanced at his little brother.

Looking between them, the doctor noticed that he had probably done it often when his boyfriend had been the twins’ age.

Mycroft was apprehensive as he next spoke. “Sherlock, I know that I said I would keep social services away from the pair of you and the boys, but they are going to need names when I address it with them.”

She nodded. “I know. I've already thought of them…”

“Well, don’t leave us hanging, ‘Lock,” John lightly chastised.

“This is Dexter,” he nodded to the baby he held, “Mycroft's got Chester.”


	3. Chapter 3

Mycroft waited until he and his brother were alone before he spoke again. The others had disappeared back inside the kitchen.

He looked down at the baby he was holding onto. He seemed much more content with the bottle he was suckling on now. It didn't seem like he found the situation completely new. That suggested Harry had bottle fed them if and when she bothered.

"Sentiment, 'Lock?" Mycroft murmured, glancing across the sofa at the baby Sherlock held. He couldn't blame him… what Harry had done…

"You love Uncle Jack as much as I do," the detective countered just as quietly.

"He loves you more," he smirked as his words weren't meant harshly.

"I took to him quicker than you did."

"But using his boys' names… I didn't think you'd have it in you."

"Uncle Jack was there for us when father wasn't. I think he'll be honoured."

"I think he will be too, Sherlock," he offered a soft smile. "Tragic what happened to the poor boys. I'm sure he was grateful for your input in having the driver prosecuted. You're aware, of course, that he lives in America now?"

"Like Irene Adler?" Sherlock smirked.

"No. Seriously."

"So? I've always wanted to go to America."

Happy the baby was finished with the bottle, he placed it on the side and moved him around on his lap, supporting his head with his long fingers. Blue eyes looked up at him, but not really seeing.  
"You were exactly like that once."

Sherlock glanced over his shoulder to see Chester beginning to get bored of the bottle too. John had said before they weren't likely to drink much over a few ounces. At least to begin with.

"Now who's being sentimental?"

"They're my nephews, Sherlock. I'm allowed."

The detective nodded. "I know." He lifted Dexter from one position until he was more upright, then he began patting and smoothing his back softly.

"You would never burp. I think you made a point of being incredibly difficult for me."

"I was a baby, I didn't make it difficult for you on purpose."

"Well you burped for Mummy. And that is exactly what you would have done. You do it now," Mycroft now found it amusing whereas when he was a boy it had been irritating.

Chester let out a small hiccough in Mycroft's lap and the government official grinned. "I win."

"It's hardly a competition, brother-mine."

"Oh god," John said from the kitchen door. "That is what those two will be like when they get older. More bloody Holmeses."

Mrs. Hudson appeared behind him and laughing, added -"four Holmeses."

"What have I let myself in for?" John mumbled, stepping forward and crouching in front of his boyfriend. "I know they're my sister's, I know that's going to make things difficult and I know what she's done to them is unacceptable, but if you'll have me, if the three of you will have me, we can be in this together. All the way."

The detective gazed into the doctor's blue eyes and almost lost himself for a minute.

"Always," he whispered, leaning over Dexter to kiss him.

"Can I take him?"

"Why?"

"It's been a few hours, Sherlock, stop worrying."

"But-"

The doctor pressed his finger to his lips and then ran his thumb along the bottom one. "Shh, give be the baby."

"Dexter."

John smiled. "Right. Give me Dexter."

Sherlock was getting sentimental and the sight was wonderful.

This time he got compliance from his detective, it would become a regular occurrence.

"Mrs. Hudson will take Chester."

Sherlock frowned as he stretched his arms out, looking at mini-John in his brother's arms. The government official was moving him from side to side slowly, but there was no sign of him wanting to sleep.

"Why?"

The doctor straightened up with Dexter held lightly, but supportive in his hands.

"Because you two are going shopping."

"What? Why?"

"Because Mrs. Hudson only got the basics to last maybe 48 hours. They need clothes Sherlock. And a buggy and car seats and all of that."

Sherlock stared at the floor, that sounded incredibly boring. "Why can't you-"

"No. You two go. You'd hate everything I'd pick and I think you two need to spend a bit of time with each other."

The detective rolled his eyes. What was John thinking? But he had that look on his face that Sherlock could never argue with and the doctor knew it. "Fine." He pushed himself to his feet and ruffled both of the twins' hair softly as he passed. "But I have no idea what I'm doing."

Mrs. Hudson, delved into the pocket of the apron she still had on. What she always had on. In her hand was a piece of paper and on it was a list of everything they would need. Everything. It was a lot.

"That's what you were up to."

"You trust me?" John asked.

Sherlock glanced at his brother, still frowning slightly.

"Do you trust me?" The doctor repeated.

He nodded. "Always," he repeated. Wasn't that obvious? They lived together, they loved each other. Of course he trusted him.

"Then go into town. Get what we need, take your time. Mrs. Hudson and I are quite capable of looking after these two."

"Mrs. Hudson-"

"It's fine, dear. Honestly. I love them both already." She moved forward and Sherlock could tell he was going to be grabbed in a hug in a matter of milliseconds. There was no way he could bear to see the look on the landlady's face if he ducked out of it.

She glanced at Mycroft and he inclined his head, a sort of thank you, she supposed.

The government official picked up his umbrella and waved it once, getting his brother's attention, as limited as it was.

"Sherlock, you'll have to wait 10 minutes. My car won't hold much in the way of bulky items. I'll phone for the Range Rover."

***

20 minutes later, the two Holmeses were in the car Mycroft had called for and were heading into town.

Sherlock had read through the list going on 20 times. Like he thought he had missed something, _as if he would!_

That was when Mycroft snatched it out of his hands. It took him by surprise.

"Myc-"

"It'll be fine, little brother. Relax."

Relax! Really? He was relaxed, it wasn't his fault this was all completely new.

"What if something goes wrong? They can't be more than a few weeks old and they've already been through so much."

"Stop worrying." Mycroft was grinning internally, this reaction was John's doing, this reaction was the right one. "If one of them so much as blinks John would phone you straight away, but not only that, he would know what to do. As a doctor."

Sherlock reacted as if he had forgotten that little detail. One of he most important details.

The car pulled up in the high street, stopping by all the stores lined up beside one another. There were no other cars in the way because it was private access only.

Throughout the whole journey, Mycroft had been surprised that his brother had agreed to 'spend time' with him. It was an unusual thought, a long distant past thought.

"Come on," the older brother encouraged him from the car. He had managed to get out and around the back of the truck without Sherlock even looking at the door handle. Was he nervous? His baby brother was nervous! He wouldn't say that out loud however.

"What will we get in here?" The detective asked cautiously.

Mycroft smiled, but internally he felt a little bad for Sherlock. It was one hell of a shock having two twins not only turn up at the door but also be his. And now he was having to do all the things 'normal' humans would do at the arrival of not just one baby but two.

"I think…" he trailed off as he read from the list - It was in no particular order which didn't help, "we should probably start with the big stuff."

Sherlock nodded. "Ok," he waited until the older Holmes had begun to walk into the nearest store. "Why are you here with me?" He couldn't understand that Mycroft would give up his evening for this. For him. Didn't he have better things to be doing?

Mycroft paused where he was, but didn't turn around. He didn't know how to answer. But because he didn't turn around, he didn't see the look on Sherlock's face and deduce what his younger brother was thinking.

Sherlock walked forward, slowly, until he was in front of the older man.

"Sherlock… us drifting apart was not my fault. Not entirely, at least." That hadn't been said in the way he had meant it. He immediately felt guilty and had to reexplain. "I mean, I went to university and you were still a child. It couldn't have been avoided, that was how we drifted apart." One of the reasons anyway.

"I know," Sherlock sighed. "I haven't exactly made it easy for you to fix things, have I?"

"You were upset. I do understand. But rehab…"

"There was no avoiding it," Sherlock replied. "I know. I know it's my fault…the resentment. All of it."

"Mummy and Father didn't help at the time," Mycroft pointed out. He didn't like the look still on his brother's face. "Sherlock… you've grown up. I think John has helped with that massively. Things have changed - they're different. And I mean in more ways than just the fact two babies arrived a few hours ago. Now are you ready for us to go in?"

The detective nodded. He didn't like dwelling on the past, especially now he had (and could see) a future.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft takes Sherlock shopping. 
> 
> There's not much baby action in this chapter but I think it says a few things about what may lie in the future!

Sherlock walked into the first store behind his brother, looking around dopily all the while.

When Mycroft realised he was walking alone, he stopped and glanced over his shoulder.

"Sherlock?"

"This place is massive." He stated the obvious and Mycroft knew something was up. His brother never stated the obvious. He deplored it.

Stepping up next to the youngest Holmes… or at least the youngest Holmes as of yesterday, he held his head to one side. "It's a shop, Sherlock, they're big. Now, what's really going on?"

"This is so… overwhelming." He struggled over the word, like it was one he didn't trust, didn't understand. "I acted calmly at the flat… but I have… children. I…" he glanced around again and then settled for staring at the floor, at his highly polished shoes. "I'm not a father. I'm a sociopath. I don't do this." He waved his hands around as if that would incorporate what 'this' was.

"Sherlock!" Mycroft caught his brother's flailing hands, he waited for a moment until he was sure he had his full attention. "You do now."

Sherlock frowned. "You've changed your tune."

A subtle change in subject Mycroft noticed, but he didn't comment on if, that wasn't what Sherlock needed. "Yes, I was sceptical." He couldn't lie about it, it had been rather obvious despite his usual control over his emotions; his impassiveness. "But now… I saw how you were with them. How protective you were of them, not in great circumstances. Their names… this is right, Sherlock. You are right to keep them. They're family."

"And we do everything for family," the detective finished. "Yes, Mycroft I know the line. Pity it didn't stick where our parents are concerned."

"They are going to have to know."

"After social services are sorted. At least. Please," Sherlock's voice was low and quiet. "If you are correct and I am doing the right thing with them, then I need that out the way first. Before you even think of phoning Mummy."

Mycroft inclined his head, conceiving the point. "You are right of course. Gregory needs to know though. Soon."

At that, Mycroft was glad that Sherlock nodded. 

"Come on then," he called over his shoulder as he paced into the store. "What are you waiting for?"

The government official rolled his eyes.

"Let's start with the cots, shall we?"

As Sherlock got near to the area that the cots were in, Mycroft caught him up as a sales assistant appeared.

"Good afternoon, sir, can I help with anything?"

The detective spun on his toe and looked the young woman up and down. 3 kids of her own, plenty of experience.

"Twin boys," Sherlock replied. "I need everything."

She smiled broadly. "Of course. What will be the price range?"

At that, Sherlock frowned, how was he supposed to know that sort of thing? That wasn't something he had ever worried about… John dealt with all that stuff.

Of course it was Mycroft that answered. "There isn't one." At his younger brother's look he shrugged. "They're my nephews, they'll have the best. Nothing can be too much."

The woman's smile got even larger somehow.

"Of course, you've come to the right place."

She pulled a step ladder out from behind the nearest check out desk.

"You're the father?" She asked of Sherlock, he frowned, but held his tongue. He nodded once instead of saying anything, he didn't know if he could trust himself, everything was still a bit of a shock, specifically the part where he was shopping with Mycroft for baby things.

"Shall we start with the cribs?"

Mycroft could see his brother getting fed up already and he stepped up beside him.

"Whatever you think will be best."

"Well, we have a selection of cots, 7 of which are specifically for twins, whereas of course you could just have two singles."

Sherlock's gaze flickered over the woman again and he shook his head towards his brother.

"We'll look at the twins, I think."

She used the step ladder as a table and pulled out the catalogue, turning to the place they needed. "There are two categories here, the cheaper scale and the higher priced scale."

As Mycroft's eyes flickered over the pages in front of him he absently reached out and snagged his brother's sleeve.

"Pick one."

The detective huffed, but his gaze went straight to the top right corner. "That one."

"This one is priced at 799," she pointed out.

"Yes, that's fine, we'll take two of them."

"Two?" She pulled out a notebook and a pen from her pocket.

"Yes, two. They'll need one at home and one at mine. Continuity and such like."

Sherlock sniggered which Mycroft tried to quell with a glare. It didn't work, his brother was contemplating having them to stay! An hour ago he'd wanted to get rid of them.

She noted down the serial numbers and the quantities before checking they were in stock on a small handheld device.

"They'll need smaller cribs for downstairs though, Sherlock. In the sitting room."

"Sherlock?" The woman asked looking up, then she seemed to realise who she was speaking to, "Oh my word… Sherlock Holmes? You solved a case for my sister last year, her husband was cheating on her. Nina."

She moved to shake his hand and much to Mycroft's amusement he didn't quite know how to get out of it.

"You have twins, sir?"

"Yeah," he cleared his throat. "Yes. It was a shock for me, too."

"Anyway," Mycroft intervened. "If we could get back to this?"

He had flicked back a page and had spotted a double crib on almost rocking horse type legs.

"This one?"

The detective just nodded. "Blue though. They aren't having purple."

Mycroft chuckled. "Two more of them, then."

Nina seemed even more eager to help now and she noted it all down quickly.

"Travel seats next?" Mycroft asked turning to the next chapter in the catalogue.

"Do I have to be here for this?" Sherlock moaned. "I'm sure you will do a quite adequate job of finding all of this… stuff."

"Yes, little brother, you will not like anything and spend the next 3 days complaining if I do it alone."

"Get Anthea. She knows about this sort of thing."

Mycroft rolled his eyes. "Excuse my brother." He prodded his finger at the book.

"These ones come with a double buggy. Rather than having the seats and and buggy separately. They come out of the car and slot into it. One moment."

She walked off up the aisle and came back with the wheel part of one of the options.

"Like this."

"That would be better," Sherlock nodded. "Getting cabs everywhere will be hard work any other way."

"You won't need to use a cab again, Sherlock," Mycroft answered, "but I agree, they seem like a good idea." It took a moment for him to realise his brother was staring at him. "A car is not difficult to purchase, little brother."

He seemed perplexed for a moment and the sales assistant stepped back to give them some much needed time.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because it's about time, Sherlock. The Holmes family is one of the richest in the country, not only that, I have the whole British government at my disposal. If having twins is what it takes for you to accept… presents then so be it."

"…ok," he stared at the floor, acting as if his toes wiggling within his shoes was the most important thing at that moment. Truthfully, he had no idea how to react to that sort of… sentiment. Was he supposed to hug him or would that be weird? He couldn't remember the last time he'd hugged anyone but John or Mrs. Hudson. Oh, Greg had years ago, but that had hurt… and he wasn't dead.

Mycroft reached over, feeling rather uncomfortable too as he touched his brother's chin with his finger and tilted his head back. "Let me do this."

It took a moment, but Sherlock nodded eventually. The older Holmes had been rather shocked at Sherlock's reaction. He was usually very… difficult.

"Well then, I'll not have that one. I want them separate." He spoke eventually, but Mycroft was glad it had been the younger of the two to break the silence.

"Why, Sherlock?"

"Have you seen all the mums in carparks and things? John always tells me off for laughing. They can never get the things in or out. The grandparents are even funnier."

"Very well," he turned over a few more pages. "Is this the higher range?" He asked Nina.

At her nod he twisted the book to Sherlock.

"Pick one."

"I want it blue."

Mycroft laughed and narrowed down the options.

It didn't take long for Mycroft to have his brother select the chairs and buggy that he wanted. He made sure he had two of it all listed down.

"I may have miscalculated with this one."

Sherlock glanced up. "Brother-mine?"

"This isn't all going to fit in the Range Rover. Excuse me one moment. Sherlock, behave."

With that he took off to the door, tapping at his phone as he went.

"What else might I need?" The detective asked. He was determined to prove to his brother he wasn't completely useless.

"Changing table perhaps? It's not necessary like the changing mat, but it's still a possibility."

The detective glanced over at the door and saw Mycroft leaning in through the Range Rover window.

"Yeah, I'll need one of them."

"They are also good for storage. We do offer a wider option for twins. Assuming you are with the mother? Both at once then."

"I'm not with the mother, no. But I have a… partner."

She paused for a moment, a gleam in her eye. "Ah, that'll be Doctor Watson, then?"

"Yes it is," for some reason Sherlock didn't sound embarrassed, he didn't feel it either. Usually he felt himself blush whenever he mentioned or even thought of John in a… sexual context.

"Am I right in thinking you'll be wanting two of them?" She inclined her head towards Mycroft outside.

"Yes. I should think so." He paused at a buzz on his mobile and pulled it from his pocket. Lazy sod wouldn't even walk in to ask!

"Mycroft wants to know if it's all here today?" At her nod, he added, "Do you have a collection point?"

"Around the back. We had a stock delivery yesterday, should be full today."

Sherlock sent off a quick message telling his brother what Nina had said and then entertained himself by texting John. He was not checking up on the boys. His boys. Merely enquiring into what they were up to. Despite being days old maybe they were causing trouble?

"Do you do clothes and other things here?"

"Yes we do, we have clothing one side in the next unit. And essentials and accessories the other side."

"Do I have to go and see that stuff now?"

She laughed.

"There's a few more pieces in here first, then you can be on your way."

"You don't cover the other stores?"

"No, Mr. Holmes, just this one."

"Can you?"

"Can I what?"

Mycroft chose that moment to intervene. "What my brother is so desperately poor at trying to ask is if you wouldn't mind joining us in the next stores? You are very good at your job."

She smiled almost sheepishly, she was actually wanted by Sherlock Holmes.

"Of course," she could hardly say no.

***

Half an hour later they were in the second of the two stores.

Slowly but surely they ticked things off the list that Mrs. Hudson and John had made. Sherlock was behaving rather well, keeping on top of his 'bored' comments. Up until the assistant asked for his opinion on some of the baby clothes.

He rolled his eyes. "This is getting tedious."

"Would you give us a moment?" Mycroft asked.

Nina nodded and stepped out of the room. "What is it?"

"Nothing. This is just boring. I have better things to be doing with my time."

Mycroft shook his head. "Better things to do with your time? It's your boys were shopping here for."

"Yes, well… we don't need all this," he finished lamely.

"What is it really?"

Sherlock scowled at him and began flicking through the racks of baby clothes, turning his nose up at anything that wasn't blue, green, red or orange.

"Don't try and play games with me, Sherlock, you know it doesn't work."

"John isn't replying to my texts."

"And?" He was fairly sure he knew where this was going, but he wanted to hear Sherlock say it.

"I just wanted to know how the boys were…" he trailed off, feeling stupid, but still worried. There was a nagging feeling in his head that he only got when he lost sight of John on a case.

"They'll be fine," Mycroft had to try very hard to not show his amusement.

"What if something's happened?"

"They are with John and Mrs. Hudson. If anyone can get passed John they are left with your crazy landlady. They will be fine. Now let's get on with this and then we can leave."

Finally Sherlock nodded. "Alright."

***

Sherlock had pulled out every item of clothing between the ages of 0-3 months that counted as ok colours in his book. They were the only colours he'd see the pair in, as he was the one dressing them.

Mycroft had just laughed, especially when he'd picked up a light blue frilly dress by accident.

"They are not wearing that!"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Holmes," Nina chuckled as she put it on another rack where it belonged. "I'm not sure how it got there."

"I'm just glad they are both boys."

Amongst the items of clothing there were a couple of sleep suits each, many babygros and plenty sets of clothing. Mycroft had demanded four of each.

Sherlock had to agree with him, they were as different as possible for their age and being twins, at least he could dress them in the same things.

Mycroft couldn't hide his blush when he saw Sherlock looking at a set of dungarees. "You used to have a pair of them. You got your foot in the pocket somehow and wiggled about like a lump on the floor until I glanced up from my textbook. You weren't even bothered. Just felt mildly inconvenienced."

Sherlock glared at him for talking about it in front of a basic stranger, but he was smirking to himself inside.

When Mycroft told her what account to charge it all too, she blinked at the price on the screen. However, Mycroft didn't even bother to bat an eyelid. What was £20000 in the grande scheme of the British Government? He glanced to his brother who was helping to shove boxes into the lorry. That in itself was an odd sight.

He thanked the assistant for all her help and went to climb into their car, calling his brother along with him.

"The lorry will meet us at Baker Street. They'll take half out there and the rest will go on to mine."

Sherlock nodded, looking distant. This was all so big… he had never imagined what it would be like, never even thought to imagine.

One thing he was certain of now, that he hadn't been hours before, was that they were all in it together.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg arrives

Mycroft watched on amused and confused in the car on the way back to Baker Street. 

Sherlock's leg sat tapping, bouncing on the ball of his foot. Yes, his brother was irritable on car rides, but this level of irritance was off the scale. 

"'Lock, calm down."

"No. Can't your man drive any faster?"

"You know what the traffic at rush hour is like. You complain about it often enough."

Sherlock glared at him and his foot increased its speed. 

"Sherlock, what is it?"

He spun his phone around in his fingers, throwing it from hand to hand. "John still won't answer my texts."

"You're being paranoid, baby brother. They're fine."

The detective went back to staring out of the window, wishing London would pass by so much quicker than it was. 

***

Sherlock charged out of the car at the first opportunity, apparently that meant when it was still technically a moving vehicle. Once he had steadied himself, he raced up the stairs into Baker Street. He froze at the sight in front of him. 

In the doctor's armchair, he held mini-Sherlock. The baby was dressed in a pale yellow baby grow as was mini-John that Mrs. Hudson held, sat on the sofa, sipping by now, cold tea. 

"Sherlock?" John's head snapped up in surprise, spotting the panic on his boyfriend's face. The boy in his arms, completely oblivious to it, just gurgled. 

"What's wrong?"

"You wouldn't answer your phone."

"Oh yeah," he smirked sheepishly. "Well it's on charge in the kitchen, I've kind of been preoccupied."

The detective huffed and glanced at his brother who had finally joined them in the flat. 

Sherlock glanced between the twins and it was obvious what he was thinking. 

"Yeah, I know," the doctor conceded. "Mini-you would be the one that stays awake." He was looking at the little blond in Mrs. Hudson's arms, he was fast asleep. 

"Dexter."

"Huh?" John looked up again.

"His name is Dexter."

"Of course."

Sherlock paced towards the doctor and held his hands out expectantly. 

The other three occupants of the room watched Sherlock closely as he gathered the little boy up in his arms and laid him out, his bum on the detective's forearm and his head in the crook of his arm. 

He stared down at the blue eyes of the boy in his grasp. Not just any boy, his boy. 

"So where is everything?" John asked, finally drawing his eyes away from his boyfriend. He realised there'd be plenty of opportunity to watch him hug his kids. Most likely at 3am. That wasn't a part of this that he was looking forward to. But it wasn't like he wasn't used to it. Sherlock quite often woke up at stupid times in the morning. Or even the afternoon. Sometimes he skipped the whole thing all together. 

"Coming," Mycroft replied when Sherlock made no effort to. He had walked to the window, where he looked out into the greying sky of London, a lorry would be out there soon. A very big one. 

Dexter shifted in the detective's arms, the boy's legs kicking out randomly as he flexed his muscles. 

"Why isn't he asleep?" Sherlock asked, rocking him from side to side. 

"He doesn't want to be asleep," John replied easily. He went to the window at the sound of a large lorry pulling up outside. 

Mycroft had settled himself into Sherlock's armchair and couldn't help his smirk at the look on the blond's face. It was worth it just to see the shell shocked expression. 

"Bloody hell, you two. Did you buy the whole store? Or is Mycroft moving in?"

Sherlock glanced from Dexter to John and then to his brother. "I think buying the whole store is probably the closest answer." He moved his pinky finger and ran it along the boy's bottom lip. Immediately he began suckling on it, Sherlock smiled. 

"They're just dropping off your lot," Mycroft spoke to John, but he was watching his brother, "and then they'll clear off."

John moved back across the room, lifting the other baby from Mrs. Hudson's arms to give her arms a rest. She patted the doctor on the head. "I shall stick the kettle on."

"Our lot?" John asked. 

"Mycroft insisted on buying 4 of everything," Sherlock informed him happily letting the baby slobber all over his fingers. 

John's eyes widened, but in shock or horror no one knew. 

"Yeah, that's kind of how I looked in the store. That sales lady did some form of weird laugh."

Mrs. Hudson was sporting a large grin, having not actually moved to the kitchen yet. Before either of the three men could work out how she would react to such news, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around the elder Holmes. 

Mycroft just stood there, stock still. After a moment he glared at his brother, hoping he would intervene and get him out of the awkward situation. He didn't. 

"Don't look at me, Mycroft! That is your fault, you decided on the number of duplicates."

"Yes. But get your landlady off of me."

Sherlock smirked, one eyebrow raised. "Do you really think I can tell her what to do?"

It was true, it was the one person who didn't bend to the detective's every whim. 

Mrs. Hudson actually bopped Mycroft on the nose with her finger. "Clever boy, your brother."

On this occasion, he wasn't being clever, resistance when Mrs. Hudson was like this, was futile. 

Sherlock snuggled himself into the sofa more, removing his finger from Dexter's mouth and instead watching him. "Hello," he whispered softly, blue eyes stared up at him, a stray fist grabbing at his shirt. "Best not grab Daddy's shirt, you might hurt yourself."

John watched his boyfriend for a long moment. Sherlock was… different with the baby and it was so unexpected. He had seriously underestimated the younger man. After all this, he doubted he would ever get the opportunity to do so again. 

Dexter gurgled in Sherlock's arms and at the same time, Chester gurgled in his. He glanced down in time to see him open his mouth and cry out immediately. 

The detective looked over, panicked, he didn't like that noise, he felt the urge to make it go away, make it go away for ever and ever. 

"Sherlock, he's fine," Mrs. Hudson assured him as John moved out of the sitting room and into the kitchen, Chester fussing in his arms. 

The doctor reappeared a few minutes later, Chester apparently happily gurgling around the bottle between his lips. 

"How did you know that?" The brunet asked carefully, crossing the room to peck John on the nose. 

"It was either a bottle or sleep. And he had just woken up. You might say I deduced. But I would call it the process of elimination."

"Call it what you like," he actually poked his tongue out. 

Mycroft cleared his throat beside them. "Little brother, may I?" 

He was watching Dexter carefully, his eagerness to hold him obvious, but he wouldn't say that. 

Eventually, the detective held the boy out. 

Mycroft settled him into his arms much like Sherlock had moments before. 

There was the sound of footsteps on the stairs and the door opened. "Mr. Holmes?" The man there froze at the sight of his boss, the sight of the British Government, holding a baby.

"Sherlock, where do you want it all?"

The detective glanced towards John, an eyebrow raised. He didn't know. Such domestic things were dull. Occupying pointless brain space, and then he realised he suddenly had sons he didn't have yesterday and that domesticity was inevitable. 

"Upstairs," John told the man at the door, when his boyfriend refused to speak. 

A look from Mycroft was all it took to shoo the man out of the flat and back down the stairs to start unloading everything. 

Sherlock moved to the window, pushing the curtain back so he could see out. There were half a dozen men already carrying boxes from the lorry. 

"I knew you had got a lot, Mycroft, but did you realise how much?" He inclined his head towards the outside world and Mycroft joined him at the window. Then he smirked. 

"Best to be prepared. They're babies, little brother, not toys or experiments. Preparation is key."

"You sound like you've swallowed a baby manual."

Mycroft rolled his eyes and moved back across the room as his brother did. Almost as if it had come out of nowhere, Dexter's mouth opened partly, he immediately began whining, wiggling in Sherlock's grip. The older Holmes looked down at him, "You look even more like Sherlock now."

"Shut up, Uncle Mycroft!" Sherlock spat as he walked across the room again, but his voice was without venom for once. 

Mycroft returned the smile Sherlock was supposed to be sporting and moved to the kitchen. 

"There's bottles already prepared in the fridge," Mrs. Hudson called through, "just pop one in the microwave."

Chester was still suckling on his own bottle, his fair coloured hair pushed up at all angles where he had been writhing in John's grip. 

When it was clear the boy had finished, John passed the bottle to their landlady and rubbed at his back. 

The doctor grinned at the little burp and passed him to Mycroft. One sniff told the older man exactly why he had been given the baby.

***

The two cribs had been found and brought into the flat. They'd also been set up, the doctor taking pride in being able to set up the both of them with ease. 

The two adult Holmeses had changed first one nappy, and then the other with relative ease, much to Mycroft's bemusement, it had most definitely been better than their first attempt. 

Dexter was still awake, staring up at nothing while Sherlock played with his belly where he was laid out on the sofa. 

"I think he's a little young for that, babe," John whispered, sitting beside the baby boy and scooping him up to his own lap.

"He's a mini version of me, it's never too early to make him laugh."

"He won't run before he can walk," John pointed out. 

"Meaning what?" Sherlock's brow furrowed in confusion. 

"Smiling is a little less ambitious."

Sherlock huffed, but otherwise ignoring him. "Where's Chester?" 

"Mrs. Hudson took him downstairs." 

He immediately moved to the door and John grabbed his wrist. "She's trying to get him to settle. She'll be fine. And so will he."

The detective turned his glare back on the older man. "I wasn't-"

"Yes, you were. And it is fine, but there is no need. Eventually you'll realise that the pair of them won't vanish, it'll just take a while for you to settle to the new situation."

Nodding, more to himself than John, he settled back into the sofa, resting his head down on John's lap. 

"If Mrs. H has Chester, where is my brother?"

"Here, Sherlock," he came in through the door carrying a paper bag. "Can I borrow Dexter for a minute?" He asked. 

"No. My son is not a toy." He couldn't help but think Mycroft had said something very similar a few hours before. 

"He'll love it," Mycroft promised with the tone of his voice. 

Sherlock nodded once, puffing out his annoyance at his brother, "Fine."

As soon as Mycroft had picked up the little Holmes, he disappeared into the downstairs bedroom. 

The detective turned, watched John for a moment and then pounced, without warning. 

"Hey!" John's surprise made it worth it. 

He pinned the doctor's hands above his head to the arm of the sofa and then ravished his mouth. 

John let himself fall floppy, allowing Sherlock to control the kiss. When his hands were released, one moved to cup the detective's cheek, the other reached down to grab his bollocks through his trousers. 

Before anything could come of it, the pair were shortly interrupted by Mrs. Hudson pushing the flat door open and carrying a now-sleeping Chester. 

They both sat bolt upright immediately, trying to act innocent, but Mrs. Hudson just bustled in, feigning obliviousness. It was usually best for all parties in such a situation. 

"This one is most definitely like you, John."

The doctor looked up, a blush rising up his neck and cheeks. "Hmm?"

"He's quite content when he's asleep."

"Just doesn't like it," Sherlock added. 

John clipped him on the back of the head. "Shut it you," he ordered, warmly. 

"Where's the other little one?" Mrs. Hudson asked.

Sherlock smirked, failing to contain his snigger. 

"What?" John didn't like the look on his face. 

"This is what it's always going to be like. Losing one of them to some random person."

"Your brother is hardly random," Mycroft pointed out from the living room door. 

The detective looked up at the older Holmes' voice and saw… his son in a yellow and black… bee costume. 

He flew to his feet and joined him quickly. He poked his finger into Dexter's little hand and then laughed. "Where did you get this?"

"I had Anthea collect them and drop them off with the lorry load."

"Chester's got one, I presume?"

"Of course."

The younger brother held his hands out and Dexter was deposited there, he settled himself back on the sofa, tucking in the boy's head to the crook of his shoulder, helping him to get comfortable. 

***

Many hours later, the four Holmeses sat on the sofa, Chester was asleep again in Sherlock's arms and Dexter was quietly suckling at Mycroft's finger. At a glance, it was easy to deduce that Mycroft was feeling rather proud of himself. Both boys now had their bee onesies on and Sherlock couldn't keep his eyes from them. They looked, dare he say it, adorable.

The downstairs door slammed shut and both Sherlock and Mycroft deduced the reason for it. 

There were two sets of footsteps on the stairs, much to Sherlock's annoyance and the door was shortly pushed in. 

"Sherlock, I need your help-"

The DI froze at the sight before him. His boyfriend and his brother sat on the sofa… holding babies… babies dressed as bees.

John came out of the kitchen. "Alright, mate? Ah, yeah that happened…" he inclined his head at the set of Holmeses. 

When Sherlock caught sight of Donovan he passed Mrs. Hudson the sleeping blond and stepped between the sergeant and the twins. 

"Sherlock…" Greg trailed off in shock. "What on earth?

Mycroft gave his brother a warning look, he daren't kick Greg out, but Donovan… 

"Leave," he spat in her direction. 

"Sherlock, you can't just-" Greg cut off as Sherlock spoke, but he wasn't really interested in what he was saying, more on what his boyfriend was up to with a baby. 

"Shut up, Lestrade. She is not going anywhere near them." His glare could have pierced through steel. "Get rid of her."

"Aren't you going to explain,"

"I'll be more than happy to do so, just as long as she leaves. As long as she leaves right now."


End file.
